


Wesker's Wrath

by dciphoenix



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/M, Resident Evil 5 Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:44:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3314447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dciphoenix/pseuds/dciphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Creating monsters and viruses never gets old. But Wesker's vices are just as disturbing as what he does for a living... how he spends his time will repulse anyone just as the next man – watching humans scurrying about never gets old either. Especially when they're future test subjects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wesker's Wrath

**Author's Note:**

> Please take a minute to review as I'd like to hear your thoughts etc on this. Not quite sure where/when this is set but I'm pretty sure it could work as a prequel like ficlet!

Darkness stretched into every corner of the street. Lights from the homes of the inhabitants of the buildings above provided little to no illumination on the street below. Dark clouds laced with grey, signalling the sun had set and would be rising many hours the day after this. Bags of rubbish littered the dark corners as people staggered home after a night out. Men and women trying to find their way back after consuming too much alcohol had passed, leaning on the nearest wall with one hand and throwing up with the other hand they pushed greasy hair out of the face after a few seconds rest before journeying on into their homes. Unworthy subjects.

The rotary blades hid amongst the endless blackness of the sky more than easily, manoeuvring a way from his base and into the mainland, Albert Wesker spotted a high rise building with a rooftop entrance which would be a perfect place to land his helicopter and search for subjects for his experiments. Hopefully some more intelligent than the group he had encountered, taking in the sight of his new city. High above in the cloudless sky, he blended with the moonlit horizon. A stealth helicopter by name...

Wesker twisted the control stick in the middle of the control panel and lined up with the surface of the building. The blades whipped through the air causing a slight disturbance and kicking up a haze of brown dust which quickly dissipated when the helicopter blades slowed and eventually stopped. Wesker pulled at his gloves, a little too smug of an expression graced his angular face as to his efficient landing raising no eyebrows. He tucked the hems into the sleeve of his shiny black leather-like coat. The fabric close to leather, though manufactured by himself and his team of scientists to provide him with a material which didn't rustle when he fought, roamed and glided in his adventures with ease and little resistance from the clothing that he wore.

He exited the chopper and made his way from the rooftop, through the apartments and into the near silent streets below. Closing the door and readying his weapon in case it was needed, Wesker smirked to himself, feeling a slight wash of pride run over himself as he, in not even a second had reached the stairwell of the apartment block. The elevator was certainly out of the question. He needed to stay out of sight just in case the police had put the puzzle pieces together and had come up with the theory that he was the one kidnapping the homeless off the street. Only choosing the ones that wouldn't be missed if they were to go missing. One to two hundred people are homeless drifters of the streets of America at any one time. The streets of any other country would surely be similar.

With a whip of his long coat hitting the back of his ankles, Wesker took in the sight of the people he was thinking of taking. His project needed more test subjects and the streets were crawling with them. Albert Wesker rolled back his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. A small group of homeless people stood by a barrel emitting gusts of smoke and a roaring fire. The people were trying to keep warm on the cold streets. How wrong they were to think this day would end in little comfort. "Well, hello there, sir, that's a fine coat if ever I saw one." A bum spoke to him, a toothless smile graced his mouth and beckoned Wesker with a tatty gloved hand. His clothes were grey, dirty like the concrete surrounding them. He was the textbook stereotypical image he had in mind.

"Indeed it is." Wesker tightened the coat around his chest to emphasis his reply. That and to keep out the slight cold that touched his exposed flesh. "Warm, too." His voice was bitter, ended in a harsh British accent that always cut though the atmosphere like sheet metal.

"Come stand by the fire, son." The bum continued then turned his attention back to his friends and the feel of warmth. "It's not like you need it or anything." He muttered under his breath.

Wesker strutted towards the fire one foot in front of the other, feeling the change on temperature. Even if he couldn't feel human emotion. He could still feel.

Extending his hands towards the heat, Wesker rubbed his fingers together. Feeling the fire nearly lick his fingers. He took a minute to take in his setting as he drank in the fire's benefits of the old man's home. Tilting his head up, he saw torn old posters decorated the crumbling walls. Poor attempts to fix the decrepit building resulted in damp beams of wood over head. Plaster and stone hung from the nearby walls by a sliver, there were more holes in the walls than brick so the cold night air swam through the buildings at ease.

"Not from 'round here are you?" The bum insisted on talking to him. Pathetic.

Wesker moved his gaze to take in the horrible dressed man and his small group. Even though they were more then poorly dressed, had no understanding of personal hygiene and were the complete opposite of the worthy subjects he had in mind – they would not be missed.

"No." Wesker replied, the one syllable seemed to concern the other man as he looked him over, not wanting to tear his eyes away from the mystery man dressed in total black for too long. His eyes, though hidden by bronze tinted sunglasses glowed red. Irises, still the ordinary black, but where a shade of blue, green or brown should be. In place was a burning crimson, like burnt rubies as they shimmered in the fire's golden glow. The fire rippled the man arms and whole image through the fire. The man; whom still had not revealed his identity – seeming very essence oozed with wealth, power and confidence. Just in the way he carried himself, dressed and then when he spoke of a certainty that had never been heard before.

"Bet ya live in a nice big house with a fireplace or somethin' flash. Heh." The tatty man chuckled and folded his arms.

"Not exactly." Wesker pulled his mouth into a thin lipped smile. "But it is large, warm," he paused, "very expensive." Watching the homeless man's expression change to one of hope. "You can come with me and see it. You could even stay for a while."

The bum frowned. "What's the catch?"

"No catch." Wesker replied with a slight shake of head. "Just stand there." He almost purred in anticipation of capturing some test subjects. Wesker then swiftly reached out a balled up gloved fist and hooked the man in directly in the face in front of him, catching him in surprise. It took another well aimed blow to his cheek to knock him down, noting the blood burst and ran down his mouth. The bum's friends backed away from the leather garnished violent man and tried to make a run for it. But obviously Wesker was far too quick for them and took their feet out from under them, lifting them up smashing both into the ground. He wrapped his hand around the smaller, more fragile man's throat and continued to tighten it until his face had turned red and his victim was gasping and struggling for oxygen. This pleased him.

Wesker watched as the man tried to free himself, and failed with each simpering attempt. Throwing him into the wall and knocking his out, Wesker's attention was directed to the other homeless person, cowering in the corner. Lifting him into the air like he weighed nothing more than a feather, he growled in rage whilst pulling him from the man who had hurt his friends. Wesker gritted his teeth in fury and head butted the man in one swift motion, feeling him limp in his strong hands before throwing him to the growing pile of unconscious bodies by the fire. His body rolled onto the front before colliding with those of his friends. If he wasn't knocked out by Wesker's attacks attacks; he sure as hell would be now.

Taking a small black device, no bigger than a pebble from his utility belt, he threw it into the ragged pile. On contact, the device glowed red from a pin-point light. The light began blinking and started making a rhythmic bleeping noise. Not loud enough to attract others. But powerful enough to be read by a satellite and then by a computer back at his base alerting a team of soldiers to come out and collect the new stock. Wesker kicked the small object into the bum's withered old hands. The man looked to he in his late 60s, the loose wrinkles around his closed eyes said so.

Ageing was not something for Wesker to worry about. "I'm afraid I lied. Sorry." His tone of voice expressed no remorse, no sympathy as he straightened himself up from pushing the round device into his palm. "But we'll meet again soon."

Meet again soon, they did. Metal and glass ran from where he overlooked his base and stopped where his eye could see no more. Wesker's enhanced gaze took in the unmoving bodies of the captures homeless people he took in from off the street a few hours earlier. They were all locked in a secure testing chamber. He stood, high on his workstation deck, a bridge and metal staircase was built to go into the depths underneath and to the testing chamber. Wesker had made the cell with shatter proof, impermeable glass. That and with special equipped heat sensors and ways of dealing with any problem from his test subjects should they arise.

Excella gazed at him with adoring eyes. "Once again you brought back healthy test subjects." She smiled, her eyes following suit. Exella Gionne looked him over from head to toe worshipping an idol in a religious land. She felt this description was rather apt as Wesker, himself thought of his very being to that of God or on a God like level.

"Of course." Wesker replied.

She took in the sight of him, surveying his kingdom. Full of new, better, faster, stronger B. that was the work and effort of many experiments, many captures of homeless, unmissable humans to hopefully become what he is.

Unfortunately many were not worthy of the benefits Wesker provided. Excella never moved her gaze from his body. His hands clenched behind his back, eyes, glued to the screen so he didn't catch her reaching out a well manicured finger to wipe blood from his cheek. "They were hostile?" Her voice was concerned that they had someone harmed the indestructible Albert Wesker.

"I do hope you jest." He scoffed and moved out of her advances like many a time. Wiping a gloved hand over where she had wiped the blood from the man's burst lip.

"Don't tell me off just for caring." She sounded hurt, but he disregarded it.

"Excella, it is not my blood. Because if you saw, the man in the cell has a burst lip. I had to get them all down somehow, didn't I?" He talked down to her like a child, slow, calm and calculating.

Excella shook her head. "How stupid of me. As if something as pitiful as a homeless man could hurt you." She cocked an eyebrow and walked around to the back of him, loving every inch of his beyond intelligent self. Running her eyes and hands over his back, she moved her small hands into the sliver of air between the layers of clothing he wore. Peeling the fabric away from his skin, Excella smiled to herself at the trust he placed in her. With his injections and similarly as important – his plans for global domination. How she would adore seeing his reign with a rod of iron over everything in the world.

She pulled at his coat from behind, relishing in the feel of his body heat still cling to the clothing. Running her hands over the leather-like material, Excella laid it on the back of his chair. Feeling the need to go just a bit further for one, a thought niggled in the back of her head. Unbuckling his gun holder, letting her fingers linger on him for just a bit longer than what was necessary. "Are you tired after today's collection, my king?" Making sure her breath touched his cheek to signal her presence, Excella nuzzled her face dangerously close to his own, threading the leather holster from its ridged place against his body. She heard the soft thud of his gun land in his lap as she moved away from him.

"Hardly." His lips curled into something of a pout as he answered her. His voice unwavering.

"But it's time for your next injection." She said.

"I am aware." Wesker answered the woman who's affections were seemingly never ending. Each time they were in close contact with the other, she always wanted to constantly touch and caress him. He would allow for this to go on until he had no further use for her. Until he could bare it no longer.

She came into his vision. Carrying the metal briefcase where she kept the specially created serum. His life blood in small, three inch vials which ensured and kept his superhuman, astonishing abilities; speed, strength and sensory capabilities in touch. Whenever he had his next dose, he never let the danger of his dependency and usage of the new drug – if he accidentally was injected with a more or less dosage of it: it would be like poison in his veins.

Excella opened her briefcase and picked up a vial, inserted a needle and came over to him to shoot him up. She touched her fingers to the flesh of his arm, pulled the forearm round to her eye level to observe the vein underneath and tapped the join of his arm and elbow before doing the same movement on his injection to rid it of any air bubbles. Though never did she test the needle's efficiently by squirting a small amount in the air as she, too knew of the limbo like dilemma he placed himself so willingly into.

Excella moved his gun off his leather clad body and sat herself on him, pouting slightly before pushing the needle into his vein. Excella felt a half smile pull at the corner of her mouth at the sight of his stoic body not even flinching at the small piece of metal penetrating his skin. Did he even feel pain?

Soon, the entire vial was emptied into him. Crossing her legs and steadying herself on his person, she touched her knuckles to his cheek. He jerked slightly as if her touch had burned him. "Is that better, Albert?" She purred, close to him.

At this distance, he could smell the flowery perfume she wore, womanly and positively seductive if he had any desire to see her in that light. Running her hand over his bare flesh, she hummed at the feel of him and still, the trust and tolerance – for the lack of a better word they shared. Her fingers delved further over him, past his belt and buckle.

Wesker grabbed her wrist. "What have you done, woman?" His voice was ever so slightly laced with concern while his palms, for once free of the leather-like gloves he wore were sweating. His head spun and throbbed like someone had wired him up to an electrical circuit. A sharp shooting pain as if she had jabbed the needle into his brain emitted pain and lightening from behind his eyes.

"Nothing!" Her eyes widened in concern as she raised a single digit to wipe the man's blood from earlier off his chin. Rubbing her fingers together to rid it from her small hands Excella then pressed her fingertips into his neck. Feeling his jugular vein beat rapidly underneath, she smirked at his so slight concern. "Have you forgotten? These are normal side-effects for usage of Uroburos." She tried to read his expression, yet failed like so many times before. "Do not worry yourself."

His heart rate visabily decreased in speed as she continued to monitor his pulse while he loosened his vice like grip on his business partner. He sighed and allowed his body to relax underneath her.

She passed him his gloves, but caged her hand in one significantly larger one of his. Her breathing hitched as she looked him in the eye – or where they were underneath his glasses. His other hand pulled back the lower of her plump, alluring lips. Feeling her gaze falter and skin flare with a heat that he fanned into flame so quickly it left her gasping, wanting more... This sign was one of apology for accusing her. He should have known better, he knew that. She knew he wasn't the type of man to willingly admit it wrongdoing or even more, apologise and ask for forgiveness. This was his, Albert Wesker's way of apologising to her.

Letting out a lungful of hot air she hadn't realise she had been holding within her, Excella blinked away the momentary vision clouding feelings that were too, unknowingly harbouring inside of her. "My Albert," she began, a smile spread its way across her lips as she spoke. "I would never intentionally harm you. Never." Excella solemnly bowed her head in a subconscious show of respect and possible fear.

"I know." His voice was low with certainty of her words when he spoke, closely before he repeated his action. The dilating of her pupils and rapid heaving motion of her chest spoke thousands of words but he heard only one. The one he knew meant he was getting to her. Want.

Excella saw this uncharacteristic movement as a bid to finally win over her affections. Pressing her lips to his, she moaned seductively at them joined after so long. Brushing her pair against his to ease his own open, she held her breath in anticipation. What happened next was something she had before only ever dreamt about. Wesker lifted her up in his muscular arms and onto the surface of his workstation. The sudden movement startled her so much the sudden contact. That the second kiss; coming from him this time, made her gasp in awe. Her lips falling prey to his as he caught one between his teeth and tugged it away. Feeling her melt in his touch, trapped beside his solid form and the workbench.

Excella felt his hands explore her bare back, the skin always on show to entice him and remind him of the porcelain skin that could so easily be his if he wanted. Her heartbeat thumped rapidly in her ribcage – meeting the pace of his own many moments before. "Oh, Albert..." She whimpered, mumbled against his thin lips, the sudden continuing contact blurring her vision once again in a lust filled haze where all she saw, all she felt was him. Him and his hands.

He abandoned his hasty search of her body as he nipped at the flesh of her collarbone and moved his hands away from her skin and to his trousers. They were unbuckled and pushed to the floor in mere seconds, pushing up the hem of her expensive silk dress came next. Though he made short, quick work of that too.

Her airy moans soon filled the small observation deck, making the already tiny room feel all the more suffocating. The feel of him touching every piece of her body made her whimper and moan in ecstasy as the pleasure he was creating. His groans overpowered hers as they bodies met in a pleasurable rhythm. The feeling something he had thought to be once lost. The feeling so old, he had to take a thought to map out what it could've been.

He would be leaving bruises on her body – in the places where he nipped at and the hard hold he had on her hips. Fingertips marring her skin for his own. Wesker grunted at the sensation when his hands flew to her throat and began pressing into her Adam's apple, his long fingers entwined at the back of her neck as he applied little pressure to her throat but enough to around the windpipe with his thumbs to make her flail.

Excella gasped as her face took on an expression he never saw before. Even though her hands clawed at his own for him to relinquish his grasp, her green glassy eyes swam with acceptance. As this was the only way he would grant her pleasure from him – if he would seek and take pleasure for himself in return. He clenched his jaw over hers in rough, hard kiss and swallowed the loud glass-shattering groan that dared to fall from his mouth as he poured himself within her. He then, having released himself into her smaller, softer body pulled his hands away from her neck.

She fell to the floor, recovering from his strangle hold he had on her and the near flood of pleasure from the climax she was so quickly racing to. She was so close to taking him for her own, cementing herself a place in his new world and his heart. If it was still capable of feeling what she felt for him.

After straightening himself up and smoothing back strands of dark blonde hair. Wesker found his sunglasses where he left them – after removing them as he prepared himself for his next injection – Wesker went about finishing up his work. Leaving Excella to recover, he left the room and went into the main area of his base. Flicking on the light switch to bathe the testing cell with eerie blue lights, he examined each of his victims.

Their arms and legs were sprawled in painfully awkward positions. Black ribbons of blood ran from either eyes, nose and mouth. Each subject's skin was marred with bruises and odd black marks from where they tried to escape and from their cell. Convulsions would have ripped through them, ending in the subject either being consumed entirely by Uroburos tentacle like limbs ripping though muscle and tissue then engulfing the subject in the leech-like pustules. Though, it seemed his subjects weren't in the final stages of transformation yet.

Taking the key from the workstation, he left the observation room and moved into the corridor beyond, his feet made a small clacking noise of the metal grating covering each station floor. Wesker put the key in the lock and punched in a series of numbers – a dual locking system was the only way he could put his mind at rest as to one of his enemies coming to his base in the dead of night and unleashing the beasts he was experimenting on. That would never happen again if he had a say in the matter.

He pushed the heavy metal door open and observed the still deathly postures his experimental victims had fallen. Walking amongst them, he carefully kicked each of them to be fully certain they were dead. Another failure. Another near perfect attempt to create a new strain of virus – one where he could distribute aerially without risking infection of his unintended victims. He would've been able to create his new world without having to be admit the chaos the unworthy would cause.


End file.
